


not to me (not if it's you)

by animosities



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 10:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animosities/pseuds/animosities
Summary: Five times Essek gives the Nein a ride and one time he doesn't mind at all.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 14
Kudos: 129





	not to me (not if it's you)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [Grad Student Who Is The Only One With A Valid License + his pack of wild undergrads](https://adobewanphotobi.tumblr.com/post/187948807286/grad-student-who-is-the-only-one-with-a-valid)
> 
> this is a formal apology to my friend in college who was The One With A Car




It starts with a simple offer that Caleb is surprised hasn’t come up before.

Essek looks out of place in their home at Number Nein. (The name has been explained too many times and has since lost its hilarity of lost translations and mishearing, but Essek has yet to question why they refer to themselves as the Mighty Nein without a hint of irony.) He sits with proper posture and polite manners at the breakfast bar as he sips at the coffee Caleb made him. The kitchen isn’t a mess, per se, but it’s cluttered with all manner of knick knacks and well-thumbed cookbooks. A stack of vegan recipes bought second-hand sits between a bright pink toaster that looks seconds away from bursting into flame and an expensive coffee machine Jester had bought solely for the heated milk function. Essek takes it all in with a calm yet inquisitive gaze, but keeps any questions he may have to himself. 

“Thank you, again,” Caleb says, hoping to fill the silence that has settled between them. 

“Nonsense,” Essek replies, setting his cup down gently atop the counter. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Caleb eyes the folder of printed articles Essek has accumulated for him, no doubt meticulously highlighted and annotated from the drow’s previous research, and thinks of the hours it has saved him trawling through the library; it’s certainly not _nonsense_ but he knows Essek won’t let him further belabour the point. He’ll just owe Essek another favour. 

The two of them work in the same building on campus but for different research groups. Essek’s main focus is on gravity-based magic while Caleb is far more interested in time. Still, their research often overlaps and Essek has been an invaluable resource of insight and experience. He’s worked at the institution for about as long as Caleb has, having transferred there after completing his doctorate in magical studies and taken up a postgraduate researcher position, but it hadn’t been until Caleb moved from his undergraduate studies to his PhD that the two formally met. Their offices neighbour one another and they can often be found burning the midnight oil with strong coffee brewed from the same ancient pot. There’s a comradery between them built upon a common thirst for knowledge and a shared bond over midnight proofreading. Caleb’s not sure if he would call Essek a friend, but he’s certainly an invaluable colleague and ally he hadn’t expected. 

“There are nine of you here?” Essek asks, drawing Caleb from his musing. 

“Ah, no. The house is number nine. When we moved in there was—it’s not important,” Caleb stammers, his story collapsing in on itself. “There are seven of us. Six and a half? Myself and five other permanent residents—perhaps four permanent. Yasha is away quite often. And Veth stays here at times when her family house is too far to get to.”

“It sounds quite lively,” Essek comments, which is perhaps the politest thing anyone has said about the household. Essek is somewhat familiar with Caleb’s roommates from Caleb’s past rambles about them but he has yet to meet any of them, a fact Caleb is grateful for. While telling him tales of Jester’s exploits and Beau’s fights and how Veth insists on only referring to Molly in the past tense even though he only moved a few hours away and still calls weekly, Caleb isn’t quite ready to introduce Essek to the chaos. Part of him wants to preserve this blossoming understanding between them and shield it from external mayhem; another part of him _knows_ the other’s will clock his growing crush on the drow instantly and mock him mercilessly at every given chance.

“It gets… interesting,” Caleb says carefully.

“I have no doubt about that,” Essek replies, his words always coming with a smoothness that Caleb envies. “Are you heading to the office today?”

Caleb nods. “Ja. I, ah, have some spell modifications to trial.”

“Wonderful. I’ll give you a lift,” Essek says, pushing his stool away from the bar and standing—or, rather, hovering.

“Oh! Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to—”

“We’re heading the same way, are we not? I would have given you the folder at the office if I’d known you were working today, but I suppose coffee brewed in something _not_ as old as I am is a good enough penance.”

Caleb can feel the apology on his tongue but Essek has already waved his hand and left a clean coffee cup behind, his pristine, leather satchel hoisted onto his shoulder.

Caleb nods. “Let me get my bag.”

* * *




Caleb’s eyes ache and feel weighed down with lead. The effort required to keep his eyelids open is immense and he spends every other minute rubbing at his face in an effort to wake himself up. His mind buzzes with sleepy static, a lethargic buzz that clouds his every thought. He’s _so_ close to being finished for the day. He’s analysed every variable of his three trial spells, combed through every component twice over, but still can’t spot his mistake. He just needs to go through it all a third time to make sure and then he can go home. 

(He debates just sleeping at his desk, but his supervisor had admonished him the last time he’d walked in on Caleb doing that.)

A sudden hand by his face jolts him into wakefulness. A burst of adrenaline clears the tired fog from his mind momentarily, until Caleb realises that it’s just Essek setting down a mug of fresh coffee for him. He picks it up with a grateful smile and a quiet ‘thank you’, and realises upon the first sip that it’s not coffee, but tea. And not just any tea; it’s the tea that Caduceus stocks at home. It’s warming and gently spiced and tastes like _home_. Caleb wonders how Essek got it; does he visit the same small tea shop that Caduceus frequents? Caleb’s never known him to drink tea before.

“Why are you still here?” is the question that falls from Caleb’s lips, instead of anything about the drink.

“I could ask you the same,” Essek replies. He lowers gently to his feet and leans against the small patch of Caleb’s desk not covered in books and papers. 

“I’m not done for the day.” Caleb’s almost interrupted by a yawn that threatens to break free. It seems that now he’s been interrupted from work, his fatigue has truly settled in and made itself at home.

Essek’s eyes scan the pages smeared with notes and fresh ink and jump to the spreadsheet open on Caleb’s desktop, it’s cursor flashing, having not been moved in hours. “Drow don’t need nearly as much rest as humans yet I’m finding even I need to turn in for the night. Perhaps viewing this with a fresh pair of eyes in the morning would help.”

Caleb knows he’s right, that the chances of him solving this issue in his current state are slim to none, but he hates leaving a task unfinished. His tutors when he was a boy would have punished him for such carelessness. 

“Drink your tea,” Essek says, voice lowered, although it’s only the two of them in the office. “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t need to—”

“I insist. It’s late and I don’t trust you to not curl up and sleep under a lamp post.”

Caleb huffs and smirks to himself as he drinks more of the tea. “Sleeping on the streets isn’t so bad.”

For a moment, Essek looks like he wants to ask something, but he leaves it be. He takes a seat at one of the vacant desks and politely waits for Caleb to finish his drink. Caleb leaves the mug with residual tea leaves on his desk, knowing he’ll be in again in just a few hours and can clean it then. He scribbles a few notes on a scrap piece of paper, a couple of ideas he’s been toying with all night that he doesn’t want to slip through his grasp in the light of a new morning, and stands, arms raised in a stretch. 

“Shall we?” Essek asks. 

* * *

The low rumble of the car lulls Caleb into a semi-slumber, where he’s aware of turning corners and passing streetlights but he can’t quite hold a conversation. Instead, he watches Essek. 

He wants to know how Essek’s writing is going, how his supervisors responded to his recently drawn conclusions. Essek has long since been an up and coming name in graviturgy and he carries that pressure with apparent ease, going so far as the levitate rather than walk (although Caleb has heard the story of a badly-healed leg that still causes him pain to walk on, but that’s not the usual story Essek provides to a casual observer). He looks tired, though, more so than usual. Perhaps his work has been giving him as much grief as Caleb’s has, such is the downfall of a researcher. Eventually you hit a wall and all that can be done is to chip, chip, chip away at it until either it crumbles or you give up. Essek isn’t one to give up. He’s a strong man, Caleb thinks. 

Essek is older than him, wiser than him, but something about him calls to Caleb. It’s not just the high cheekbones or the deep violet of his eyes; it’s the intellect that seems endless with a curiosity to rival Caleb’s; a thirst for knowledge impeded by nothing else; a sense of guilt that Caleb has never asked about but lingers nonetheless—something unspoken and heavy that they both carry with them. Caleb hopes one day Essek can unburden himself and share the weight with Caleb, but for now, Caleb’s content to doze and watch street lamps illuminate Essek’s hair in flashes as they near number nine. 

* * *

3\. 

They’ve missed the last bus _and_ the last train. 

“I could have sworn the buses run ‘til two,” Beau says, leaning closer to the timetable displayed on the board as if closer inspection will change their fate. 

“Are we stuck?” Veth asks.

“Noooo, of course not,” Fjord replies, batting her silly suggestion away. “Look at all the buses around to take us home! Go ahead, take your pick!”

“I can and will murder you,” Veth grumbles only to be interrpted by Caduceus asking if they have enough money for a hotel. A series of ‘no’s chimes. They hadn’t expected to be out this late, nor to front the cost of a hotel room. 

“We could hunker down in an all-night diner?” Veth suggests. 

“Could do,” Caleb says, “but we might get kicked out after a while.”

“We only need about four hours until the next bus runs,” Fjord points out. They parry back forth between various places they could stay and how much a taxi or two would cost between them, and if it’s worth just waiting it out at the bus station, until Yasha quietly asks if they know anyone who can drive. 

“I can drive,” Beau says, chest puffed out. 

Fjord rolls his eyes. “You don’t have a car. Or a license.” 

“Essek can drive!” Jester exclaims. 

“Yes!” Veth joins in, her feud with Fjord forgotten. 

“It’s almost two in the morning,” Caduceus says, words almost slurring as he blinks sleep from his eyes. “I don’t think we should be disturbing him to drive over an hour to get here.”

“We could always ask?” Jester suggests, wide eyes peering curiously around for input. “I could send him a message?”

“A _magical_ message or a text?” Fjord asks before she can cast anything. “Like Caduceus said, it’s late. We don’t want to wake him up with your voice in his head.”

“Oh.” Jester looks downtrodden for a second, but perks right back up as she turns to Caleb. “You have Essek’s number, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Beau adds, “you can text him. See if he’s up. Persuade him to come pick up his favourite fuck-ups.”

Caleb wants to interject and dispute the points that he doubts they’re Essek’s favourite _anything_ and also that he isn’t usually asleep yet, but he remains quiet. 

It was only a matter of time before Essek met the Nein and it miraculously hadn’t been as painful as Caleb had predicted. Essek had handled the initial encounter with the grace and dignity as would be expected of him, and the Nein had been _fascinated._ They’d known a bit about Essek from Caleb’s occasional stories of work. Some knew more than others; Beau knew who had been helping him with his primary sources and Veth knew who had been driving him home late at night. Still, they’d swarmed around him, a deluge of questions falling upon him. The general consensus had at least been positive, from an approving nod from Yasha to endless poetical waxing from Jester about how _handsome_ he is, and Essek had yet to distance himself from Caleb entirely because of the ordeal. All in all, it could have gone worse. 

“I can ask,” Caleb says, “but I don’t think he will want the two hour round trip because we can’t check a timetable.”

He pulls his phone from the depths of his jacket pocket and unlocks it. He dictates as he types, allowing the others to correct and interject as he goes. 

As he finishes, Jester claps her hands together and says, “Thank you _very_ much, Essek! You’re _amazing!_ We all love you _very much_.”

“Especially Caleb,” Veth adds.

“ _Especially_ Caleb,” Jester agrees. 

Caleb opts to leave her addendum out and hits send. 

“He’s replying!” Beau shouts, almost deafening Caleb from where she’d been peering over his shoulder. 

As exclaimed, the three dots indicating Essek’s reply jump in a rhythmic pattern. 

“Already?! Caleb he must _really_ like you,” Jester says, winking at him in a way he’s sure she thinks is subtle. 

“Ja, or he was already awake,” Caleb mumbles. 

“What’s he saying?” Fjord asks, graciously steering the conversation away from Caleb’s embarrassment. 

“ _Please find somewhere safe to wait and send me your location. It should only take me fifty minutes or so given the current lack of traffic._ ”

“Does he always text like he talks?” Beau asks. “It’s weird.”

“Don’t call him weird; he agreed to drive us home,” Fjord admonishes.

Beau ducks the shove to her shoulder. “Right, yeah. Fuck it. I’m all about Essek.”

“Should we get him a thank you gift?” Caduceus suggests. 

“Yes! Like a pastry hamper! Or flowers!” Jester suggests.

Beau prods Caleb and asks, “Does he like wine? I can get good wine.”

“He prefers red but yes,” Caleb replies, and stays quiet on why he knows that.

“So…” Yasha says, and they all turn to her. “Should we find a diner?”

* * *

Caleb is the first to notice the car pull up. They’re piled into a single booth at a run down diner near the bus station, their table littered with cups of tea, coffee, and milk. Jester is still awake and drawing a variety of dicks across a napkin. Fjord has fallen asleep, his head atop Caduceus’s shoulder, who’s sitting still enough to not disturb him. Beau stares intently into her coffee, black and strong enough to stand a spoon in it, as if she’s willing herself to stay awake. Yasha is staring at Beau, her gaze just as intense. Veth has been slowly stealing all the teaspoons from about the table. Caleb pretends to not notice. 

He rouses everyone to wakefulness as the car stops. He gives Essek a short wave from the window and grabs the two coffee cups he’s been keeping magically warm for the last hour. 

They file into the street and Beau immediately calls shotgun, but Yasha grabs her by the arm, holding her back. Caleb knows this is to grant him the honour and he hopes the group cannot see his blush in the dark. (He then remembers how many of them have dark vision and curses his fair complexion.) 

He ducks into the passenger seat of the car and gives Essek a tired but grateful smile. “I am _so_ sorry, Essek,” he says, handing over one of the warm coffee cups. Essek looks surprised at the gift but takes it nonetheless, then watches silently as the Nein pile into his car. Veth sits atop Caleb’s lab and Beau atop Yasha’s. The remaining trio debate which way round they should sit, until Fjord claims the middle seat and Jester takes a seat atop Cad. 

Caleb’s smile turns sheepish as Essek turns back to him. “Thank you?”

Essek sighs and turns the key in the ignition. “If the police pull us over, I don’t know any of you.” 

* * *




The afternoon sun blazes overhead. Caleb is glad to be out of it.

He’s been dragged into the ocean a couple of times by an overexcited Luc, an equally overexcited Jester, and Fjord who’d needed him to help balance out the guys versus girls volleyball match. Now he sits in the shade, shirt back on to cover the scars littering his arms. A book Jester loaned him lays abandoned on the sand next to him as Caleb instead focuses on his phone. The book is good but he’s distracted; Essek is at work and it seems he’s just as distracted. 

Essek going into the office on a sunny weekend is par for the course—he’s drow, after all—but it’s unusual that Caleb hasn’t joined him to share pained glances whenever one walks past the other’s office. His thesis draft sits unfinished atop his desk and Caleb is keenly aware of his looming deadline, but it had been too hard to turn the Nein down in their offer of a beach trip. Besides, one day off wouldn’t hurt. 

It’s the first truly bright weekend of the year and it seems the whole campus is taking advantage of it. The bus ride over to the beach had been packed with bodies clad in swimwear and smothered in sun block. Jester has long since perfected the art of staking out the best spot between the promenade, the ocean, and the snack shack, and Caleb is happy to babysit their belongings as the others play in the sea. He’s content to lie back and read in the warmth, safely shielded from sunburn and _more_ freckles. 

Although, he hasn’t been getting much reading done. 

_If one more person ‘borrows’ my components from my lab without asking again, I’m going to set up wards around it_ , Essek’s text reads, and Caleb huffs a laugh to himself imagining the other’s barely concealed wrath. He’s _very_ protective of his components.

 _Except when he lends them to you_ , a voice in his head adds. He elects to ignore the thought. 

_Perhaps something that stains their hands red?_ Caleb types out. _You could literally catch them red-handed._

“Caleb?” 

Caleb jumps, instinctively shielding his phone screen from prying eyes. Caduceus’s shadow falls over him as the man takes a seat at the sunbed next to his. He wrings ocean water from the lengths of his hair and reaches for a water bottle from the cooler. 

“You enjoying yourself over here?” Cad asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Ah, yes.” Caleb picks up his book and gestures vaguely with it. “It’s much more adventure and less dicks than Jester’s usual fare. It’s quite good.”

“That’s nice,” Cad says. “How’s Essek?”

Caleb can’t be surprised that Caduceus knows who he’s talking to, but it doesn’t stop a deep flush spreading across his ears and cheeks.

“He’s well,” Caleb replies. 

“It would have been nice to have him today,” Caduceus says casually. Caleb is never sure which statements are genuinely casual and which are careful planned with him.

“Ja, it would, but drow and sunny beach don’t exactly mix.”

“Right.” Caduceus returns the bottle of water to the cooler and picks up his sunhat. He pats Caleb on the shoulder as he stands to leave. “He could have kept you company in the shade, though.” 

Veth, Luc and Yeza join him not long after, each sporting a dripping ice cream with a spare for him. Veth and Yeza take the vacated sun bed and Luc hops up to join Caleb on his. Caleb lets him take the book he’s been reading and helps him past the first few pages. Jester appears shortly after with fresh pastries from a bakery along the promenade. She tucks into something that smells like vanilla and almonds as the others join, everyone apparently finished with their fun in the sun for now. Beau and Fjord each have a cocktail from a beachfront bar that’s an alarming shade of bright green and smells like paint thinner; Yasha takes a sip from Beau’s straw but Caduceus turns down Fjord’s offer. Caleb thinks that’s probably wise. 

The sun starts to dip in the sky and the blazing heat fades into a gentle chill. They don light jackets and start to gather their things, emptying melted ice from the cooler and wrangling various sports equipment. Beau and Yasha are the first to depart, stating that they’re going on a date. It’s the first Caleb has heard of it, but he imagines it’s a last minute plan based on the surprised looks he sees from others.

“Have fun!” Jester calls as the couple wanders away hand in hand. Beau turns back to shoot her a thumbs up, which Jester returns double-fold. 

The Brenattos are next to leave. Luc has grown malleable and sleepy next to Caleb, with the book still atop his lap and chocolate smeared around his lips. Caleb delicately hands him off to Veth as Yeza hails downa taxi. 

Caleb’s phone buzzes with a new text, which he checks after waving the family off. 

_Are you still out?_

_We’re just about to head off_ , Caleb taps back. _Are you still working?_

 _I’m also about to leave. If you’re by the east shore and willing to wait ten minutes, I can pick you up_. 

A pleasant thrill runs up Caleb’s spine and he tampers down a smile that threatens to bloom. He vocalises Essek’s offer to the remaining trio and takes Jester’s immediate, if somewhat tired, cheer as an affirmation.

They brush sand off their feet and gather their shoes and towels. Caleb gives their exact location to Essek, who promises to be there shortly. By the time they’ve double checked they have everything and picked up one of Luc’s forgotten toys, a familiar car pulls up next to them. 

Caleb intends to claim shotgun anyway but doesn’t miss Jester’s gentle push to get him there. The car’s interior is perhaps cooler than he’d like as he slides in but he imagines it’s nice for those who’ve been in the sun all day. Jester claims the middle seat in the back with the boys either side of her. Her head droops almost as soon as she sits down, her energy having finally faded. Fjord sits quietly by her, swaying a little more than the drive requires; perhaps the cocktail hadn’t agreed with him too well. Caduceus is content to bask in the silence, comfortable with quiet and stillness. Caleb, however, feels an awkwardness scratching at him. He feels rude accepting a ride from Essek without any pleasantries when they’ve admittedly been texting all day. 

“Did you sort out the figures for your paper?” he asks. 

Essek glances to him momentarily and gives a casual shrug. “Supposedly. No doubt someone will have more criticisms to give about colour palettes and graph types but that’s a problem for another day.”

They ease into a comfortable back and forth about errors and illustrations as Essek effortlessly navigates them away from the tourist side of town and through the residential streets. There’s something peaceful here in the car, with Essek beside him and his three friends drifting off in the back. It’s a moment he wants to capture and never let go. 

Caleb turns to the back seats as Essek turns onto their street and drives down to number nine. Caduceus is first to rouse with Jester following shortly. She rubs at her eyes and yawns a thank you to Essek, leaning forward between the front seats to press a sweet kiss to his cheek. Caduceus helps her out and rounds the car to help Fjord tackle his seatbelt and lend him some balance as he steps out. 

“Thank you again, Mr Essek,” Cad says, closing the door after Fjord. 

Caleb struggles to say anything for a moment, his tongue thick in his mouth as the peace between them shatters and they’re left alone. Something untold but overwhelming has embraced him. 

“Do you have all of your belongings?” Essek asks, stirring Caleb from whatever has caught him. 

“J-ja. Ja. I—thank you again.”

Essek nods and, for just a second, looks like he wants to say something. Instead, he simply reaches out and squeezes Caleb’s hand as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, as if his cool touch doesn’t leave a scorching burn behind. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Caleb can only nod and follow the others inside. 

* * *

5.

Caleb doesn’t remember calling Essek. His phone’s battery is dwindling on single digits and his world is swaying too much to unlock it to check. But still, Essek is here, crouched in front of him as he sits on the park bench. Tears have cooled and dried on his cheeks and his mouth tastes like bile. His hands are shaking as Essek takes them between his own. Where is he?

It was meant to be a fun night with a guest seminar from a visiting professor. He and his fellow cohort members were keen to enjoy an evening of intellect and free wine, until there had been a change of plan. Although their original guest had been held up at an airport and was facing significant delays, another group had been hosting a different guest professor who had a presentation ready to go. 

Which is how Caleb spent an evening drinking too much wine and avoiding eye contact with Trent Ikithon. 

He’d hoped Ikithon wouldn’t notice him, wouldn’t recognise him. It’s been _years_ and Caleb has changed so much. His name is different and he’s grown into himself; he’s no longer the scared, tortured boy he’d once been. But still, he hadn’t wanted to make a scene so took a seat by the back, hoping to slip out before the mingling could begin. He’d had no such luck. 

One colleague had caught him, asking for his thoughts on the seminar and another had grabbed him, asking about lab time this week. He’d felt Trent’s presence before he’d seen it. His heart stammered and stuttered and his stomach plunged into icy cold depths. Every instinct in him yelled at him to run, but he could only stand there frozen to the ground as Trent purred “It’s good to see you, Bren.”

He can’t remember the conversation. He only remembers the bile rising in his throat and his fist clutching at his wine glass. He remembers desperately looking to the door and stammering through an excuse to leave. 

He’d thrown up in a trash can outside the foyer. The wine and empty stomach disagreed with his panic and he’d stayed there dry heaving until he heard footsteps approaching. He walked away. And continued walking. He’d wiped his mouth with the back of a shaking hand and just _kept_ walking. 

He doesn’t know how far he went or how long it’s been, but Essek is here now, murmuring sweet nothings to him as he tries to coax Caleb to sit upright. A bottle of water appears before Caleb’s eyes; Essek must have brought it with him. He struggles with the lid until Essek undoes it for him. The first sip reminds him how foul his mouth tastes and he splutters. Essek is beside him in a moment, rubbing at his back and persuading Caleb to try again. They sit together as, sip by sip, Caleb drains half the bottle. Essek seems content with this and replaces the lid, then sets about his next task of getting Caleb standing. 

Only then does Caleb notice Essek parked nearby. He glances around and sees he’s near Essek’s neighbourhood. He’s only been here a couple of times, once to return a book and once to join Essek for drinks. Had he really walked all this way?

“Wie spät ist es?” he says, although his words come out more slurred than he intends. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Essek replies, holding Caleb by the armpit and elbow as he helps him stand. Essek is standing on his feet, Caleb realises. He’s not hovering. 

Caleb’s world tilts this way and that but he focuses on Essek’s car as his homing beacon, his streadying spot on the horizon. Essek helps bundle him into the passenger seat and ensures his seatbelt is secure before rounding to the driver’s side. He blasts the vents on warm and encourages Caleb to warm up. 

Why is Caleb cold?

He’s _shivering_. How long has he been outside? His eyes struggle to focus on the radio until he reads the time. Midnight, almost. The seminar had been at eight. 

“Did I call you?” he asks, voice haggard and choked.

“You did,” Essek replies. His words are not harsh or angry, rather soothing instead. 

Caleb closes his eyes and focuses on maintaining his composure as Essek sets off on a gentle drive. He takes corners gently and is careful with his breaks in an effort not to jostle Caleb too much. 

It seems as if Caleb blinks as he’s in his room. For a moment, he thinks it’s still night. His head pounds with a headache and his shoulders wail with tension. His throat is dry and scratchy and he feels as if he could sleep for hours again. The clock on his bedside table informs him that it’s only eight in the morning. Next to it sits a tall glass of water and a packet of painkillers. Confused but unquestioning, he pushes himself upright and reaches for both. 

Tangles of memories pass in and out as he stretches his back and cranes his head this way and that. He drains his glass, cherishing the new life it brings, and waits for the painkillers to kick in. The hangover is a specific breed that only wine can cause. Did he drink too much at the seminar, he wonders, trying to track how many glasses he can recall drinking. 

Then, in ebbs and flows, it comes back to him. A change of schedule, a rising panic, hiding behind alcohol, and fleeing in distress. He remembers hands on his and arms around him. When he checks his phone, he sees unread texts from Essek. 

He owes this man a _lifetime_ of coffee. 

As if conjured from his thoughts, a knock sounds at his door and a familiar head of white hair pokes around it when Caleb calls for the visitor to come in. He starts, having expected one of the Nein to be checking in on him. His eyes feel crusty and his hair must be a mess, let alone the fact that he’s still dressed in last night's shirt and underwear. 

“You’re awake,” Essek greets, the statement more of a sigh of relief than anything else. “Yasha let me in as she was heading out. I hope you don’t mind?” Caleb can’t quite figure out what to say to this conjuration, until Essek holds out a paper bag and coffee cup and continues, “I brought breakfast?”

“I could kiss you,” Caleb effuses, unable to contain his gratitude or process that the thought should have stayed in his head rather than being conveyed aloud. 

“I would rather you brush your teeth before attempting that,” Essek teases, approaching the bed and handing Caleb his gifts. The bag contains two bagels, seeded with cream cheese, and the coffee is still piping hot as if it had just been brewed. 

“Are you well?” Essek asks as Caleb tucks into his food. “As well as can be expected, I mean.”

Caleb watches him and then nods. “I, uh. Yes. I think.” He chews slowly for a moment and then swallows. “I need to apologise for last night. I shouldn’t have…”

“Nonsense,” Essek interrupts, voice harsher than Caleb has heard from him. “I’m glad you called. I will always be there to help you, Caleb. I’m just glad you got home safe.”

A knot rises in Caleb’s throat and he thinks tears may threaten to spill if he dwells on that for too long, so he simply nods. “Then thank you. Truly, Essek. I cannot ever repay you.”

“There’s no need,” is Essek’s gentle reply. “You would have done the same for me.”

“Ja… I would.” 

A quiet drifts between them as Caleb returns to his bagel. He’s glad Essek hasn’t asked what spurred his breakdown or why he was wandering the streets in such a state at night. Perhaps one day he might tell him, but his hangover is enough to deal with for now.

Both of them jump as Caleb’s door opens again, violent enough to almost slam against the adjacent wall. 

“Yo, Caleb! Dude, are you okay?”

Beau’s shouts remind Caleb that perhaps his headache hasn’t subsided as much as he’d thought. 

“Good morning, Beauregard,” he says curtly. “I’m well, thank you”. 

“Yasha said you didn’t get home ‘til—the fuck are you doing here?” Her question is aimed at Essek, who has become the target of her protective glare. “What the fuck? You fucking sleep in here? Drunk people can’t consent, dumbass, what the fuck is wrong with you—”

“ _Beau_ ,” Caleb interrupts, sparing Essek from the rest of her onslaught. “He drove me home and just came back to check on me.”

“... Oh.” Beau is silent for a while as they all wait in an awkward stalemate. “Well. You bring any more bagels?”

Essek glances between them both, confusion evident on his features. “No?”

Beau rolls her eyes and leaves. She’s back a moment later with a shouted, “Thanks for looking after Caleb,” and then she’s off again. 

Caleb avoids Essek’s eyes as he feels the mortification roll over him. Essek, at least, seems entertained by the antics.

“Your home really is quite lively,” he comments. 

“Ah, ja… It’s like a family. A little _too_ much so at times.” 

Caleb is rewarded with a smooth chuckle from the other as Essek says, “Well, I am glad you have them.” 

“I’m glad I have _you_ ,” Caleb retorts before he can stop himself. He can feel the need to retract the statement rising, to avoid vulnerability and embarrassment, but it’s true and Essek deserves to hear it. “Truly, I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it but—”

“It’s not a matter of deserving,” Essek interjects. “I stopped keeping count of favours long ago. I find I’m quite fond of you. I don’t mind this at all.”

Finally, Caleb raises his gaze to meet Essek’s. There’s so much warmth there that he feels the need to look away again but forces himself not to. He’s never been very good at receiving nice things. 

“I… am quite fond of you too,” Caleb replies carefully, each word feeling like a landmine. 

But Essek only offers a smile in return. He reaches forwards and takes one of Caleb’s hands in his. He presses a kiss to the back of it before releasing it. He dusts his front down as he stands, smoothing any wrinkles in his clothing. “I’ll take my leave now. I’ll let you nurse your hangover in peace.”

Surprisingly, Caleb feels much better than he had only moments ago. 

Essek rises a few inches into the air and glides towards the door. Caleb calls to him before he can leave. 

“Essek,” he starts. “Would you, ah… like to escort me to dinner? Perhaps tomorrow night?” 

Essek eyes him with a curious gaze. “Are you asking me on a date, Mr Widogast?”

“That’s what I was aiming for, yes.”

Essek pauses, then smirks. “Be sure to brush your teeth beforehand. I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow.” 

* * *

+1

Caleb can’t imagine how many times Essek has driven this route.

He’s been staying at Essek’s house for around a week, longer than he has ever spent before. He’s stayed a night or two, of course, either after a long night at work or a long night together. He’s yet to tire of Essek’s company and attention and finds he could have easily stayed a week more in the man’s abode. But it’s family dinner night and he can’t turn that down without good reason. 

(Wanting to spend another night in his new boyfriend’s arms is not a good reason, according to Beau. Although she’s one to talk, since her girlfriend lives in the same house.)

His thesis deadline has been creeping up on him. His office is full of well-meaning but stressful offers of proofreading and help, and the Nein have never been conducive to silent study. It had been a godsend when Essek offered for Caleb to stay with him for as long as he needed, saving him from the ordeal of fighting for space in the all night library with the undergraduates. 

Essek can’t make it to family dinner night, although he usually accompanies Caleb. His latest research has just seen publication and his colleagues are taking him out for celebratory drinks. He’s given a promise to try to make it over if there’s time, but if not he’s sworn to Jester on pain of death that he’ll be there next week. 

(Knowing Jester, the threat may actually be genuine.)

Caleb watches as Essek maneuvers the car into a free space outside the Nein’s house. He knows someone (or many someones) are watching from the windows as he leans over to Essek. The familiar scent of incense greets him and silky soft hair parts for him as he raises a hand to cup the back of Essek’s head. Essek’s lips meet his in a familiar dance, soft and pliable beneath Caleb, gentle but holding a promise of more to come. Caleb can’t help but pull Essek back as he parts, giving him a second kiss, then a third and a fourth. Eventually a hand at his chest pushes them apart and he’s rewarded with Essek’s flushed face and an almost dazed laugh. 

“Your family is waiting for you,” he says, gaze drifting over Caleb’s shoulder as he spots a curtain twitching. 

Caleb rolls his eyes but unbuckles his seatbelt. “Thanks for the lift.”

**Author's Note:**

> me: doesn't write anything for 18 months  
> also me: writes 2 shadowgast fics in 2 days


End file.
